Her Real Lost and Found
by KatesMom
Summary: What happens when a powerful mutant comes to the Institute seeking the help of an Xmen only to find out their dead? And why is Scott so truamatized. Plus Emma wants to take up parenting? Takes place after Astonishing 12 and Greys End.
1. Prolouge

Disclaimer: I do not own the x-men, that's marvels job. Please do not post my work or use my original characters without asking.

Being a telepath meant you could hear other peoples thoughts, sometimes from miles away. You could feel the presence of things you could not see. Even things that appeared not to be there.

There was a reoccurring banging on the door in the Xavier Institute that mourning. Strange. Horribly Strange. It must be understood the Xavier Institute is not the type of place for people to be knocking on doors, knocking down doors would be much more normal. The banging had come as a surprise to young Celeste. Yes, just Celeste for once separated by her other sisters. Sisters it seemed so...plural. God forbid she rose early one mourning urinate without them, that must be why her telepathy was off. She was certain she would have felt someone's presence at the door; could her telepathy really be that off because her sisters weren't with her? Or could the being on the other side shield their thoughts? Should she answer it? Should she be afraid? Was she afraid? She felt her sisters stirring in their sleep, her thoughts must be loud. She must not think but act. Celeste ran to the front door of the mansion. It was almost as if someone was pulling her. She couldn't understand her desire to run, it was passionate, she felt driven towards some unknown force. She stopped running when she came face to the door. What could be on the other side?

She frowned wondering why she was acting like some weak human from a horror movie. She reached for the doorknob, and then a flood of thoughts entered her mind.

"Where are you?"

"What are you doing?"

"When did you get up?"

"You know it's Saturday Celeste?"

"Did you eat breakfast already?"

"Don't you dare even touch my chocolate croissant?"

"Since when do we have croissants?"

Her sisters, they must have awoken. Celeste closed her eyes trying to shut them out of her mind. She took a long breath, don't think, push the thoughts away. Ok, the door, right. But should she answer it or wake up one of the professors, the thought of Beast in his nightly sort of frightened her. Don't be afraid just open the door…

"Door? What door?"

"Someone's at the door?"

"Who is it?"

"Don't open it"

"What if it's an alien?"

**_SHUT UP!_**

Her mind screamed it.

Then the door was open. The sun's strong light flew into the open door like fire. Celeste put her hand up to her eyes trying to diminish the suns rays. Was that really her? Did she really open the door? She refocused her vision. Just a girl. In front of her stood a young girl, not a day older then fifteen. She was beautiful, she had long black hair pulled into a braid and tanned skin. It was her eyes though. You could only find them sometimes. Those eyes. They weren't common eyes. They were the kind of eyes that seemed to stair at nothing and at everything. They wandered never focused, the color of crystals. Eyes the color crystals. The didn't even look in the same direction sometimes, they were almost cross eyed. A strange feeling washed over her. It was almost as if she'd seen those eyes before. The girls clothes were a little less beautiful, all black and raged, almost grey. She looked old yet so young.

"Hello…um lady… can you like wake-up" The voice was inside Celeste head, almost like a dream.

"You're a telepath" Celeste spoke.

The girl lifted her eyebrows, almost sarcastically. As if to say duh.

"Who was that in our head?"

"Where did they go?"

"Don't talk to strangers Celeste"

"This could be dangerous"

"I bet it's that Fantomex guy again…"

"The one with the toga?"

"Why are all those people in your mind" The girl asked.

Celeste opened her mouth and then closed it. How exactly they all were connected. A psychic bond her mind said. Right she thought. Now to see if this girl's intentions are good, concentrate girl.

"You know I can read your mind" The girl said she was obviously getting annoyed now.

"But I can't read…

"This is not the time for stupid questions…Now I was told I could find a Ms. Jean Grey here."


	2. Let It Bleed

All you could see was white for miles. Everything was covered, not even the tips of the tree branches escaped the white powder. It was fresh. Fresh snow. Untouched because it was morning. In the mourning the snow is fresh cause no one is awake, except God. Because God makes miracles. Snow is my miracle. It was beautiful. Strange and beautiful.

It was summer. Summer with snow. It made sense. Yes, snow, summer, both start with an S. The same yet different. No Scott no snow in summer. He should take a walk, just a short walk. It was his miracle, enjoy your miracle Scott. Take your time. He walked slow down the stairs. He was shirtless, in boxers, bare footed. It didn't matter, there was snow and snow is beautiful. Go see your snow. The door opened and a gust of a warm sensation filled and surrounded his body. Almost too hot, was he sweating? He walked through the snow, appreciating each drop of it. Breathing in its cool scent. Warm weather and snow. What more could you ask for? He loved the color white; he hated the color red, his visor made him feel that way. But today was a day without it. Today was a white day and a snow day, yet he wondered, what color are my eyes? Maybe blue, his brother had blue eyes. He felt alone and cherished it. It felt nice to be alone.

He breathed in the winters summer scent, something was not right. It didn't matter. He sat in the snow, played with it in his hands. Ran it through his fingers, his toes. Let it melt upon his lips, his eyes, his chest. Taste the snow. He let it sooth his head and limbs. It feels like velvet, he thought. It would be a shame to ruin it, so much snow. But it was his gift, his miracle, and he would share it, share it with his angels. One for mom, oh how he wished he could hold her hand. And how he wished he could hear her simply say "you did good son". Oh mom. An angel for her. And one for John and Elaine Grey the one's who could see a man and not a stiff boy with a visor. An angel for Sarah and her kids, Jean would have wanted that. Jean. Jean was an angel. One made out of snow yet was all he could give to her. You are my Angel, he laughed. One for Maddy who he left, One for Thunderbird who he failed to save, One for Banshee for being his friend and One for Charles for accepting him.

The list went on and his arms got tired but he wouldn't stop till every last one was made. The last one was Morgan. Right, make an Angel for Morgan, she deserved it. Scott you don't know anyone named Morgan.

By the time Scott was finished the whole lawn was covered in Angels of snow and Scott felt peaceful about that. My angels are here in the sow, I am lucky he thought. But one is not always lucky.

It was horrible, the smell now. It was the smell of the dead. He knew it well. There was a pull, someone pulling his feet, making him walk, making him chase, making him run. He ran, he ran far fast, and then with all his might he tried to stop himself. He dragged his feet so hard that the dirt beneath the snow kicked up. He ground his teeth in effort to stop himself. No please God not today, don't ruin today. God sighed, too late. He was thrust to the ground at her lifeless feet. Jean. Her red hair stuck out like a sore thumb, but he didn't see her face or even hair anymore, just her stomach. Her white nightgown was drenched in blood, soaked across her gut. He started to shake uncontrollably his eyes started to bulge, he foamed at the mouth. He instantly wanted to die, anything not to see her, see this. It wasn't fair, it was snowing. It was his snow and it was red again. He hated red. He was traumatized. He began to cry. Her eyes opened, she rose like a zombie. He couldn't move, he couldn't breath. She sat in his lap, clinging to his skin, making marks with her nails, kissing his neck, and silently crying. "They took it away from me ." she said quietly. She caressed his cheek. Her blood rubbed cold and cruel against his skin.

Scott still remained motionless. This couldn't be happening. Her blood stained his bare skin. It smelled like vinegar and dry wine. He remained still, he felt as if he were petrified. A man of stone, a boy of stone, afraid again. She punched him hard across the jaw. The blood splattered against her white face and the snow. Red again. "You let them take away my child, you let them kill my baby". She began to scream, his ears bled. "You let murder my child. You let them kill my baby" Her body began to shrivel from sobs. She looked insane. He was terrified. She shock rapidly now, she was on fire. Red. Her ashes staining his skin. And then she was gone, the last word on her lips murderer. The snow had vanished, the sky cracked open, it began to rain and he shivered, his body able to move once more. He sat, drowning in rain, praying for the lightening to come back and hit him. Why did it have to rain today, why did it always have to-

"_**Scott!"**_

He awoke, his heart was racing, he was drenched in sweat, his nose was bleeding.

"Are you alright? I've been trying to reach you for an hour."

It was a dream, all a dream, he was here with Emma and everything was fine and he was o.k. and yet not for he knew those images would haunt him forever.

"It was like you were frozen or in a coma…Scott, darling what's wrong."

He was crying now, full force, he just let the tears come, he crumbled into a ball and rocked himself back and forth. Everything played in his head like a horror movie. He whispered, "go away…please just go away."

Emma stared open mouthed at him, her eyes wide "Scott what did you see?" He didn't answer just keep rocking. She shock him "What did you see Scott?"

"Nothing alright!"

"You saw something, I couldn't read your thoughts, I still can't, what's going on?"

"Here you are trying to invade my privacy again with your mind, I fucking hate telepaths."

"What the hell's a matter with you?"

He didn't answer.

"Fine."

They were both silent for a long time. He sat there messaging his temples and behind his ears to relax himself. Breath. Right that's it.

Emma spoke "Something's wrong, My Cuckoo's sense a disturbance in the mansion."

Scoot rolled his eyes. "Will you be O.K. with out me?" She questioned raising an eyebrow.

"I think I'll survive."

Emma left the room silently and Scoot just stared up at the ceiling, just waiting for it to fall down upon him. Crush his bones and leave him at peace. His mind raced with horrible thoughts like a virus. He'd give anything to takes those pictures away, they felt so real, could they be? Why did she do this to him? As if there wasn't enough, as if there wasn't enough guilt. I don't want to hurt anymore. He heard a scream from downstairs and fell to sleep.


End file.
